


island of lost souls

by gealach



Series: The Vault Diaries [1]
Category: Dark Wolverine (Comics), Fantastic Four (Comicverse), Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616, X-Men (Comicverse)
Genre: Depression, M/M, References to Manipulation, References to eating disorders
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-21
Updated: 2020-02-21
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:15:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22836898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gealach/pseuds/gealach
Summary: On Krakoa, Johnny finds Daken again.Set after the miniX-Men/Fantastic Four(2020), but written and posted before the final issue was out, so it's quite AU.
Relationships: Daken Akihiro/Johnny Storm
Series: The Vault Diaries [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1921072
Comments: 4
Kudos: 45





	island of lost souls

Krakoa was… well. It was _a lot._

After they allied with the X-Men to save the kids, Pryde had invited the Fantastic Four to the island so that they could see with their own eyes how life could be for Franklin there. That had earned her some side glances from the X-Men, but then they’d presented a united front; and after seeing how worried they were for Franklin’s well-being and how viciously they’d fought to save him, Sue had begrudgingly capitulated, Reed following suit.

But they were still alert, studying the bonfire Pryde had dragged them to, and Ben and Johnny were the same, their gazes constantly moving… trying to assess any threat. Everything seemed innocuous enough, the young mutants around the bonfire delighted with Franklin – but honestly, the whole setup gave off an almost cultish vibe. Maybe it was the reflection of the fire on their faces, the way the flames licked them, the shin of sweat on their bodies.

That teensie little fact that the entire mutant population _had_ to be here. Villains included, apparently, as they’d even seen _Apocalypse_ out and about, no X-Men worried about his presence.

And there were the whispers about resurrection protocols that Reed had heard about.

Johnny was weirded out. He wasn’t sure he’d like it if Franklin decided to stay… but hell, one thing was sure and they’d learnt it the hard way: the kid should choose for himself. If they antagonized him on this, he’d only leave, probably never to return again.

For some chance of fate Johnny’s gaze moved just in time to see the foliage at the edges of the clearing part, and Gabby Kinney emerge from it, escorted by a looming figure. The child joined the festivities with an uncharacteristic sullen look, but by the time she reached the other kids she was cheerful, although it seemed a little forced.

Almost out of Johnny’s vision, her escort moved a little closer and the light caressed a tanned, tattooed arm. Startled, Johnny looked back, his attention snapping back to the looming figure he’d dismissed without a second thought; the pattern swirling on the bronze skin was unforgettable. But he had a hard time reconciling the man he was seeing – broad shoulders, broad arms, massive all around, really – with the lean, elegant man that sometimes haunted his dreams.

It was, impossibly, Daken. At the back of his mind Johnny must have expected it, because once the surprise dissipated he wasn’t too taken aback; at the back of his mind, he must have known that seeing Daken could be a possibility. What caught him unawares, really, was Daken’s appearance, so different from what Johnny remembered.

Daken held himself rigidly, standing still by the trees, his arms crossed and his gaze piercing the fire. Beside him, Wolverine was talking urgently, pleadingly, but Daken seemed to be ignoring him, his jaw clenched.

As silently as he’d come he suddenly vanished, sparing no passing glance for Logan… retreating amongst the trees without looking even once in Johnny’s direction, when he _must_ have smelled him, he _must_ have known the Fantastic Four were there.

Something tugged at Johnny’s stomach, and he found himself leaping in that very same direction.

He wanted to speak with Daken. It had been so long, years spent mourning a lost friendship at first, mourning a dead friend; then the sharp pang of relief at seeing him back and working with the X-Men, no less, with his sister Laura… then the bitter disappointment at not being called or texted even once, remembering Daken’s vicious last words to him in Reed’s lab…

Johnny couldn’t help but think that they had still something to talk about. Their connection had been raw, and real; he’d known it viscerally, even when Reed and Sue and Ben all kept telling him that Daken had just played them all, had played _Johnny_ , nothing genuine in his interest. At the beginning Johnny had been so angry, but the years had dulled it down to an ache he couldn’t soothe. Reed had even tested him for lingering effects of Daken’s pheromones, positing an addiction, but the evidence had forced him to rule it out, and to even doubt Daken had used them on Johnny in the first place. He’d concluded that Johnny had simply been heartsick, and the family had decided to let it run its course.

Wolverine stepped in front of him before he could reach the trees. “Where are you going, bub?” he said genially. He’d pulled his cowl back on his face, and Johnny couldn’t read his expression past the grim line of his mouth. Johnny felt defensive.

“I just want to talk to him,” he bit out. Logan grimaced.

“No you don’t. Want to, that is.”

Johnny narrowed his eyes. It occurred to him that Daken and Logan had seemed weirdly civil, more than what Johnny remembered from having witnessed previous interactions, having met Logan after Daken’s death, and some things he’d surmised from Daken or he’d been fed by him. And so to an untrained mind it might look like a father protecting a son from an unwelcome visitor; but Johnny hadn’t missed the weird glance Logan threw behind him, where Johnny knew Xavier was talking with Reed. What didn’t they want the Fantastic Four to see?

Still, he played along. “I do. Did he tell you he _didn’t_ want to talk with me?”

“No,” Logan shook his head. “Still, kid’s not in the right ‘eadspace.”

And why was that? What had got him so sullen, Gabby so morose, Logan so desperate to please? Perhaps this really was all there was to it… just a worried father.

Bur Johnny still needed to see Daken. “He should decide that,” he pointed out. “I think I can still reach him if you let me through.”

Logan didn’t budge. “You’d get lost,” he drawled. “Weird island, Krakoa. Doesn’t like humans.”

Really now. Johnny’s previous inkling came back tenfold. “Something you don’t want me to see, Logan?”

“Of course not.” Johnny was startled by Xavier’s voice coming from behind him. He turned slowly, still unnerved by the helmet covering the man’s face. Reed, who’d stayed behind and was talking with Sue, glanced at Johnny questioningly. Johnny mouthed ‘ _later_ ’. “You’re welcome to explore the island as you please, Jonathan,” Xavier added, and Johnny returned his attention to him. “Daken will escort you.”

Wait, what?

As if conjured, Daken appeared again – looking, Johnny thought remorsefully, none too happy at the prospect. Or perhaps it was his normal expression now, if what Logan had said held some truth.

Still, Johnny wasn’t going to impose. “If that’s all right with you, man,” he offered, and Daken just… _shrugged_ and disappeared in the woods again.

Logan grimaced.

Johnny stumbled after Daken, shocked, and found him waiting just a few yards away, his back to Johnny. When Johnny reached him he started off again and Johnny followed, unsure. They walked silently for a long while; Daken navigated them from bonfire to bonfire, from groups of houses to groups of houses, happy carefree people all around; and steered them away from giggling silhouettes when they walked through more secluded areas.

Johnny didn’t know what to say. It wasn’t just the suddenness of finally getting something he’d lost all hope on finding; it was Daken’s behavior, screaming unease and general unhappiness. On an island where all mutants seemed to be living their best life, Daken stuck out like a sore thumb. And that was so different from the man Johnny knew… or the man he thought he knew, anyway.

Not to mention the somewhat stocky build. Sure, Daken had always been tall, but he’d gotten _mass_. Mass he was showing off, since he was just wearing loose, high-waisted, maybe-japanese-styled pants. His torso had definitely gotten bigger. He wasn’t fat – god, he was really well-sculpted – but Johnny still wondered.

At some point, in a deserted clearing, Daken stopped and Johnny almost walked into him.

“Is there anything in particular you want to see?” Daken asked, his back still to Johnny, the first words he told him after years, and God, even his voice seemed different. Not gruff, more like… low, sort of scratchy, as if unused or… or abused, maybe. Like someone’s voice might sound after hours of crying, or screaming.

“Not really,” Johnny shrugged. He was more interested in getting at the bottom of this, in unearthing what was happening, what _had_ happened. “I wanted to… it’s been years and I thought...” He trailed off, seeing Daken’s muscles tighten as if he was frozen in place or even afraid; he scrambled for words, but the best he came up with was a pitiful: “You okay, Daken?”

Daken seemed to deflate, almost made smaller. Johnny felt very small, too.

“I’m amazing,” Daken said, monotone, and God, it was all _wrong_. “We’re in paradise, haven’t you heard?”

“Aren’t we?” Johnny said gingerly. He didn’t know how to navigate this conversation; didn’t know what he’d expected but it wasn’t _this_ , the unease, the worry coiling in his stomach. This wasn’t even about Franklin anymore; it was about Daken, because seeing him like this… well, frankly, it fucking hurt.

Daken half-turned, his profile all sharp lines. The incongruous fuzz on his cheeks startled Johnny; when had Daken ever let his beard grow? It was almost unkempt, so out of place.

Johnny ached to reach out, but he didn’t know how _that_ would be received.

“For most mutants, yes,” Daken said slowly. “It is a paradise. They’re free and safe. But for the X-Men, it’s the same old bullshit. So if, say, your nephew were to join some team…”

“He’s a kid,” Johnny said, feeling ill. Obviously Franklin had fought his share of battles already, but always surrounded by his family…

With the X-Men, he’d be left to his own devices.

Daken raised a hand. “ _If_ the worst happened, he’d come back. We have a resurrection protocol in place.”

Johnny shook his head, finding he needed to sit down, and settled for a fallen log. “We heard about those.”

Daken nodded. “They’re designed so you don’t remember the moment of death. I’d say it’s a kindness, but I think it’s worse.” And he was talking from experience, wasn’t he? How many times had he died? His healing factor meant that he could come back from almost anything. Even when he’d blown himself up to pieces, he’d come back from _that_. “No self-preservation, because you won’t even remember,” Daken was saying. “Just sacrifice after sacrifice for the good of the island. You shouldn’t let Franklin stay, Johnny.” Daken crossed his arms. He had yet to even _look_ at Johnny.

Johnny wondered, again, what had happened. What was happening, what had Daken looking so fucking unhappy… not to mention that he was probably going against what Johnny suspected was a _direct_ order from Xavier to give Johnny the tour and sell him on the wonders of the island.

“Xavier won’t like this,” he said tentatively, and Daken _snarled._

“Charles Xavier,” he snapped, finally focusing his beautiful, bright blue eyes on Johnny, “can go fuck himself on a fucking tree for all I care.”

“… What happened?” Johnny dared to ask. And it finally hit him, as Daken’s gaze turned wild, his mouth an ugly wound: why had he brought Gabby to the bonfire, instead of Laura? Why was he angrily ignoring Logan? “Is it Laura…?”

Daken unsheathed his claws and, before Johnny could stumble to his feet, whirled around and stabbed a nearby trunk, chunks of bark and bone sent flying. Then he curled up, almost, fist closed against the wood, head bowed. He was shaking slightly, gulping on air; Johnny approached slowly, unsure, but aching… yearning to understand, to comfort. He hesitantly laid a hand on Daken’s arm and Daken shuddered and heaved a shuddering breath.

“Is she okay, Daken?” Johnny murmured, drawing warm soothing circles on Daken’s arm.

Daken rested his head against the tree. “We don’t know,” he choked. “Xavier sent her to the Vault and Logan _let him_.”

That explained the scene with Logan. “What’s the Vault?” Johnny moved his hand to Daken’s back. Daken’s skin was hot, feverish.

“The locked-down home to superpowered people who hate mutants. Time’s accelerated there,” Daken growled, his fist shaking against the wood. “Xavier sent Laura in, and two others, but we have to wait for them to come out. Telepathy doesn’t reach them. The protocols can’t work until that door is closed. We don’t know _if_ it will open, we don’t know _when_ , we don’t know how much _time_ will have passed for them. We don’t know anything! Gabby looks to me for answers and I don’t know what to tell her. Laura entrusted her to me and said she’d be back soon and it’s been weeks, probably decades for her if she’s not _dead_ , and at the beginning Gabby seemed fine and now she’s a mess and she looks to me, trying to… to fucking gauge my reactions, to model her hopes on me. And I cannot _bear_ to look at her,” he choked.

He stilled, sucked in his breath… as if he’d just let out something he shouldn’t have said.

Johnny’s heart clenched and he moved closer, placing his other hand on Daken’s shaking back too, drawing soothing circles on his shoulder. “Daken -” he trailed off. What could he say? ‘ _It’s all right_ ’? It seemed it was anything but.

“Do you have any idea,” Daken began, quietly, so quietly Johnny had to strain to hear, “how it is to see your missing sister’s younger clone every day? She smells like Laura. She has the same face, it’s driving me insane. I don’t know what to tell her, Johnny,” he whispered, defeated. “Because I’m starting to think that Laura’s dead. And that she won’t ever come back.”

This… this, Johnny could unfortunately relate to. He kept moving his hands over Daken’s back as he spoke in the darkness, hoping to convey some hope.

“When Sue and Reed went missing… well, they were fine, but I didn’t know. I… we, me and Ben, we thought they were dead. And Franklin and Val, too. We thought they were all dead.” His throat tightened at the memory, at the desperation of those days. Daken shifted; he was listening. “But… we kept hoping, you know? We spent months looking for them. And then… then we found them. Alive, all of them.” He still recalled the feeling at seeing his sister, his _family_ alive. Stark relief, giddiness. “I’m sure Laura’s alive, too. She’s a force of nature, she’s competent. She’ll come back to you and Gabby, I’m sure of it. We’ll help you find her, I’ll tell Reed -”

Daken made a wet, pained sound like a wounded animal and then he was turning to face him, his back against the tree, his knees still a little bent. Johnny found himself holding Daken, almost an embrace. Daken looked up at him – his features so vulnerable, so open and fucking devastated. Johnny’s chest clenched painfully.

“There’s nothing to do but wait,” Daken whispered. “Xavier put all his best brains on it. There’s _nothing_ I can _do_.” Suddenly he laughed, sounding a little deranged. “You know, they put me on a team. To take my mind off things. And they’re fucking _right_. I need to make myself useful, I need not to _think_ -” He shut his eyes, shut them tight. He was trembling. Johnny ached for him.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured. What else could he say? What could he _do_?

Daken shook his head, sharply, let it rest against the tree.

“I laid waste to your home,” he reminded Johnny with that terrible, wrecked voice. As if he needed to. “I attacked you.”

Johnny nodded, taken aback at the non-sequitur. “I remember.” He remembered the betrayal, the pain. He remembered burning Logan alive while thinking it was Daken. Afterwards, when Daken was dead, blown up to _pieces_ right in front of Johnny, Johnny had woken up for weeks with the scent of burnt flesh in his nostrils, terrified of what he’d done, half-sure he’d roll on the mattresss and Daken would be there in this room, alive.

Daken opened his eyes, so bright and lost. “Why are you doing this?”

Why was he comforting Daken? It was horrifying, that Daken had to ask. Johnny resumed his soothing motions, felt Daken relax slightly against the tree, but he was still _staring_ up at Johnny, waiting for an answer – perhaps even unable to contemplate it.

“You’re suffering,” Johnny pointed out. “If I can spare you at least something -”

“I used you,” Daken interrupted him, as if he _wanted_ to push Johnny away. “I used your family, I hurt you.” He was… studying Johnny in the dim light, careful, painfully honest, his eyes running all over Johnny’s face.

“Yeah.” Johnny swallowed. “You gonna do it again?”

Daken almost physically recoiled at that; Johnny felt him stiffen. His gaze lowered and Johnny waited. He wasn’t a fool, okay, he knew what Daken had done, what he’d been. But the man in front of him, the man that was taking care of his little sister and mourned so fiercely for Laura and had been put on multiple teams by the X-Men, the man Laura _trusted_ to take care of Gabby; this man was a different man from the one that had shattered Johnny’s heart. And that man, Johnny had missed terribly even before knowing that he was changed.

“Even if I told you that I couldn’t do it even if I wanted to,” Daken said slowly, still not looking at him, “You can’t trust me like that.”

“Why not?” Johnny challenged him.

Daken grimaced. “Because I told you that you should have stayed dead, Johnny. When I let you think I’d died, you were devastated. But when you came back from the dead, I told you _that_. Isn’t it enough for you to know I’m fucking toxic?”

“People lash out when they’re dying of cancer, Daken. They’re kind of allowed to.” Daken was shaking his head, but Johnny wasn’t going to have it. “Look, yeah, that shit fucking hurt. And the fact that you used me, that hurt too. I’ve been used so many times by so many fucking people and you’d think I’d notice, but I never do.” He almost started listing them off in his head, but thought better of it. Daken was nodding as if he’d made a point, gaze still downcast; Johnny felt the need to shake him, to destroy the apathy, the way Daken was so earnestly trying to ruin Johnny’s offer of comfort. But he didn’t; he just kept holding Daken, gently drawing circles on Daken’s arms. “But here’s the thing, okay, I still missed you when you were gone. Because you made an impression, because you were _something_ to me. Something _important_ , okay?” Daken inhaled sharply. “Truth is, I care about you. I think I’ll never stop caring about you.”

Daken exhaled shakily. “Johnny, I tricked you into it. I’m very good at that.” He seemed to bite the inside of his cheek. Johnny wouldn’t allow him to punish himself.

“I know I still seem the usual hothead that throws himself at situations like a moron,” he began, “but I’ve been through a lot these past years, okay? And shit like that changes your perspective. It makes you think about what you want in your life. And -” Johnny’s throat tightened. “I think we were friends, at least. I know you weren’t just using me. I know that at least _something_ of what we had was real. I know you cared, okay?”

There had been a moment, back then – on the rooftop, just before Daken left, before Johnny got lost in the Negative Zone – when Daken’s expression had shifted as they talked, guarded, as vulnerable as it was now, standing in Johnny’s arms. And you couldn’t fake that. You could be as good at deception as you wanted, but you couldn’t fake that kind of soft, wondering, startled gaze. It was too different from Daken’s go-to fake “vulnerable” expression, that Johnny had identified in retrospect, to be anything but genuine.

Daken’s gaze turned very sad. “You’re chasing ghosts. Latching yourself onto the people who abused you isn’t _healthy,_ Johnny.” He shuddered.

Johnny deflated. Yeah, the fact that Daken was warning Johnny off him, kind of proved Johnny’s point… But this wasn’t a conversation for this moment. He’d jumped into it because Daken was so skittish, but it was turning into a loaded moment that Daken couldn’t possibly deal with right now.

“Look, I’m sorry,” he exhaled, rubbing Daken’s arms soothingly. “It’s not important, okay? I don’t care. I’m sorry I put all that on you. The _point_ , to answer your question, is that even if you never cared about me, even if it was all a lie, you’re still a human being that’s suffering and I can’t just watch you fall apart.”

“No, you wouldn’t,” Daken murmured, grimacing. “That’s just not who you are, is it?”

“Yeah,” Johnny agreed brightly. “And I know, I _know_ what you’re feeling, okay? I know. Like there’s nothing you can do because everything you do is pointless, it’s not gonna bring her back. And your chest’s all tight and you don’t know what to do and you can’t _breathe_ -”

“You make me breathe.” It was an exhale, so low Johnny could almost think he’d imagined it.

But Daken stilled. He looked startled, as if he hadn’t meant to say that, eyes wide and looking up at Johnny and Johnny’s chest ached, ached so much. He kept stroking Daken’s arms, letting him regain his bearings without prompting him, because he looked exactly like a deer caught in headlights, one moment away from bolting into the woods and leave Johnny there. He’d flee and try and deal with his pain alone and it would kill him, and Johnny couldn’t have that. So he stood there, holding Daken, and waited.

And slowly, so hesitantly – the moment so damn fragile, as if it could shatter any moment, as if Daken could shatter before him any second now – Daken raised his hands, caught Johnny’s arms, cupped Johnny’s elbows so tenderly.

Johnny waited.

“… I didn’t mean it,” Daken said, eventually, bright earnest eyes staring, and staring. “When I said you should have stayed dead, I didn’t mean it.” He paused, took a shaky breath.

“I know,” Johnny said softly.

“No, you -” Daken shook his head, his fingers pressing against Johnny’s elbows, infinitesimally drawing Johnny closer. Johnny wasn’t even sure Daken was aware of it. “I dreamed of you,” Daken breathed, and it took the wind out of Johnny, it did. “When you were dead. You were gone and I kept seeing you and it hurt. And I hated that it hurt. I’d never cared so much about anyone, it was Laura that showed me how, later, and I was angry that you’d died, and scared. I was a mess, Johnny.” He shook his head, fingers trailing over Johnny’s skin and it burned, that touch. His gaze was so open, so soft, so bare. Johnny’s heart swelled and ached, it ached so much. “And then you were back,” Daken said, “And I was so relieved that it scared me more, and I was dying, and I had my stupid swan song all planned out and I didn’t _want_ to drag you into it, and that made me so angry at you, at myself. I lashed out like the foolish child I was then. And I lost you.”

“You didn’t lose me,” Johnny murmured. “I’m here.”

“Yeah,” Daken exhaled. “You’re here.” He looked almost reverent, which made Johnny feel so light, like a balloon. “You’re here and just like that you sweep me away and I breathe again. I’ve been walking around in a haze since Laura left, doing everything they tell me, chasing something, _anything_ to make me feel something else than this dull hollowness, I’ve been working my way through all my old coping mechanisms and I hate that, I _hate_ that.” His voice cracked. “Gabby needs me and I can’t just _do_ that, I can’t let her see me like that, so I’ve been _pigging out_ ,” he spat, _“_ because at least that’s not too alarming to see, for a kid, and it works, she doesn’t _know_ , she thinks I just want to put on more _weight_ and now I look like this -” He gestured at his broad chest, his large arms, heaved a heavy breath and it stuck somewhere in his throat, and he shut his eyes, began making these sounds that were so broken and fucking heartbreaking – why had no one noticed on this godforsaken island? Why wasn’t anyone doing _anything_ to help?

“Hey,” Johnny shushed softly, gathering Daken in his arms. “Hey, it’s all right, I’m here -”

“You’re _here_ ,” Daken said almost violently, rapt, and he opened his eyes, and there was something so raw in them, so fucking precious. “And I can breathe again. I can breathe again,” he repeated, as if… well, as if it was terribly, terribly important, so Johnny nodded because he got it, yeah, he was here and Daken could breathe again, and then Daken was surging up, straightening up, a hand on Johnny’s shoulder.

He stopped an inch from Johnny’s mouth, rested his forehead on Johnny’s with a sigh. Johnny stood stock still, caught, startled, his chest so tight. His arms adjusted to the new position, his hands moving over Daken’s back with the same soothing motions. Daken sighed again.

They swayed in place, slightly; Daken wasn’t propping himself up against the tree anymore. They just gazed into each other’s eyes, their noses brushing, Daken’s breathing slow and even. It tickled Johnny’s lips.

It was like a lost moment in time. No sounds, save for their breaths, the faint rustle of leaves. Some noises of people going about, but no one encroached on their space. Someone must have heard them, they’d made some noise, but did they care? Did anyone on Krakoa care? Logan had known that Laura’s mission was eating at Daken, it was obvious, but what was he _doing_ about it, save for trying to scare possible support away? Did he think he was helping? Did they think that putting Daken on a team was helping?

“Hey,” Johnny murmured, hit by a sudden, urgent thought.

“Hey.” Daken smiled. It was a thin smile, but it wrinkled his eyes, too. It was honestly the most beautiful thing Johnny had ever seen.

“Come with us,” Johnny said. Daken’s breath hitched; he cupped Johnny’s face, oh, so tenderly. “With Gabby. You can wait it out with us. You’re not gonna be alone anymore.”

“Johnny,” Daken exhaled, and then he was kissing Johnny.

He kissed the angle of Johnny’s mouth first, thumb tenderly tracing Johnny’s cheek, gaze searching Johnny’s face. Then he kissed under Johnny’s eye, Johnny’s jaw, all over his face, slow and careful and Johnny kept still, because he’d never been kissed like this, with such sheer reverence, such loving care. He held Daken, tried to meet his kisses in kind; he landed one on Daken’s jaw, felt the beard there, nuzzled it tenderly, and Daken made this small sound at the back of his throat, and then his lips finally found Johnny’s.

It was hesitant, delicate; slow gentle brushes that made Johnny feel so light.

It was so different from the only other kiss they’d shared, that urgent, heady kiss before Daken left for Madripoor. Daken had taken charge then, pushed him against the wall, devoured Johnny’s mouth until Johnny’s knees had almost given way under him. He’d taken Johnny apart with that kiss, seared him.

So different now. Daken went all soft and pliant against him, cradling Johnny’s head with a big hand, the other just brushing reverently against Johnny’s upper arm. Johnny run a hand up Daken’s shoulder, cupped the nape of Daken’s neck, and Daken pressed himself against Johnny, quiet sounds escaping his mouth with each kiss, lovely soft sounds that made Johnny’s heart ache.

Johnny wanted to gather him in his arms and hide him there, wanted to take him away, away from this, from the island, from all this shit. He wanted to help him, to comfort him. He wanted to march up to Xavier and give him a piece of his mind, and tell Logan to fuck off too, grab Gabby and tell Sue to take Franklin and then _go_ , take them all away from this godforsaken place.

He held Daken tight and Daken clung to him like a lifeline, parted his lips with a strangled moan that tore all air from Johnny’s lungs and then his tongue was in Johnny’s mouth, and he was leaning back against the tree, and Johnny moved his hands away not to scratch them and grabbed Daken’s shoulders, still stroking, and Daken was spreading his legs and arching against him and Johnny –

 _Kid’s not in the right ‘eadspace_ , he recalled Logan saying, and Daken was _devastated_ and it was starting to look a lot like taking advantage of his grief, and Daken had talked about _old coping mechanisms_ , hadn’t he, and when Johnny squeezed Daken’s arms, panting, ‘ _Wait, wait, Daken,_ ’ and moving away a bit, Daken was already doing the same, shivering.

Daken broke the kiss with a groan and rested his head against the tree, eyes half-closed. He let go of Johnny, but hesitantly, as if he needed the contact. Johnny let go too, straightened up so he wasn’t crowding Daken but still close enough to… well, he didn’t know, really. He ached to comfort Daken but he didn’t want to give him the wrong idea.

In any other moment… if Daken hadn’t been so high-strung and in obvious pain… God, he’d have kept going, no doubt about it. But this… it didn’t feel right.

They stared at each other for a moment, catching their breath. There was a faint shin of sweat covering Daken’s heaving chest, gaze fluttering downcast then up, roaming Johnny’s face.

Johnny was still searching for words when Daken spoke.

“I’m not using you,” he said quietly, and Johnny started.

“I know,” he rushed to say, but Daken was shaking his head, eyes feverish.

“You have no idea -” He broke off with a grimace.

“It’s all right,” Johnny murmured, raising a hand, hovering it by Daken’s arm. Daken was looking at it, at Johnny, with such longing, and Johnny touched him lightly. “It’s all right,” he repeated. “It was mutual, you weren’t using me. You’re just… struggling, and it’s normal to need to blow off steam. It’s okay. I get it.” The important thing was that they’d stopped. Johnny would have never forgiven himself.

Daken shook his head. “You don’t _get it_ ,” he choked. “I’ve been sleeping around, yes, because I need not to think, but I don’t care about them, they’re not _you_ , you’re not a piece of flesh to keep me from thinking, you’re more than that, I don’t want to use you, I will _not_ use you,” he concluded, tense, gazing up at Johnny, and _oh. Oh._ It hadn’t been a reassurance, or at least not just that. It had been a statement of intent.

“Okay,” Johnny murmured, _you’re more than that you’re more than that you’re more than that_ spinning in his ears, his heart afloat in his chest. Red hair like vines crawling over him, being dismissed like a subject. He cleared his throat. “Thank you, Daken. It means a lot.”

Daken swallowed. “Were you humoring me, then, because I was struggling?” he asked, features suddenly, carefully closed. “Because it’s normal? Nothing wrong with that.” He shrugged, and how could he think that after everything Johnny had said?

“I care about you,” Johnny said firmly, stroking Daken’s arms. Daken sighed, relaxed against his hold, his breath quiet, his gaze fixed on Johnny. “I wanted to comfort you, yes, but I didn’t want to take advantage. I didn’t want you to regret it.”

Daken half-smiled. “I’d never regret being with you. If it were -” he broke off, again; Johnny waited, his heart thumping in his chest. “I think we need to talk,” Daken said quietly.

“We’re talking,” Johnny protested.

“I mean when I’m not a neurotic mess.” Daken reached up, cupped Johnny’s cheek. “When I’m more stable,” he murmured, thumbing Johnny’s cheekbone, “and a kiss isn’t just an emotional response to comfort.” He leaned in, pressed his forehead to Johnny’s temple, and Johnny held him.

Daken’s place was in his arms, safe. But he was right. “Okay,” Johnny agreed, “but please, come with us.”

Daken kissed his cheek, softly. “I can’t. You and I need some space and Gabby needs her friends. But it means a lot, Johnny. That you offered.”

Johnny worried his lower lip. “I just don’t like the thought of you being alone here. Dealing with this thing on your own.”

Daken sighed, nuzzled Johnny’s cheek. “I’m not alone. Logan loves to pester me, you saw him. And I have a few… concerned teammates.”

That obviously wasn’t enough, seeing Daken’s state, but Johnny tried to be encouraging. At least _someone_ had noticed. “Yeah? You talk to them?”

“Sometimes.” Daken tilted his head back. “They’re very persistent. Annoying, really.” He crunched up his nose.

“Who is it?” Johnny nudged his shoulder.

“Polaris and Summers.” Polaris had been teammates with Daken already, so maybe she knew how to deal with him. But _Summers?_

“Cyclops?” Johnny asked, a bit incredulous.

“No, _Rachel_ Summers. She’s gotten it in her head that...” Daken shook his head. “Doesn’t matter. The point is they’re onto me. You don’t need to worry about me.”

Fat chance, that. Johnny stroked Daken’s back. “I won’t if you promise to talk with them more.”

Daken raised an eyebrow, but he was smiling. “Is that so?”

“Yeah. And you’ll talk to me, okay? Let me know if you need anything. And when you know something,” he added, “about Laura. I’ll be there for you, all right?”

Daken’s features did something complicated, worry and grief appearing and then giving way to an utter softness. “Yes,” he exhaled. “I know you will.” He pressed a kiss to Johnny’s lips, quick, and then gently disentangled himself from Johnny’s embrace. Johnny let him.

He needed to trust Daken, to trust that he’d be all right.

Daken seemed to hesitate, then he grabbed his hand, laced their fingers together. “Come on, I’ll take you back to your family.”

Johnny squeezed Daken’s hand. He’d take everyone and leave the fake paradise, talk honestly with Franklin and hope the kid would choose to stay well away from crazy Charles Xavier and his terrible island.

It would all resolve and Laura would come back and then… then he and Daken would talk.

Together, they walked back.

**Author's Note:**

> According to the script in the director’s cut of _X-Men/Fantastic Four #1_ , Daken was supposed to have a cameo there. So this fic is me hoping he meets Johnny in the final issue and they talk, but also me being unable to wait for it to find out.
> 
> In the newly released _X-Factor_ covers Daken shows up bulky, bearded, and wearing loose pants. I guess the change in appearance will possibly be explained, but the last time Daken looked so different it was due to depression after Logan’s death, and since Laura will stay in the Vault for three months/ _five hundred years_ I thought her forced absence might have something to do with it.
> 
> I’ve headcanon’d Lorna and Daken as friends ever since those glorious _X-Men: Blue_ issues, and I hope Leah Williams will hear my prayers.
> 
> I’d love to hear your thoughts ^-^ Leave me a comment if you want!


End file.
